With Each Breath
by GNess
Summary: The reluctant look in her eyes and the uncomfortable way her feet, in sparkly flip flops, constantly moved back and forth told him that she didn’t want what he did. Short song fic to Ronan Keating's "If I Don't Tell You Now"


****

With Each Breath

He kept walking back and forth in the enclosed space; with each step it seemed the walls were closing in on him. It was a huge room, a bright room, but to him it felt tiny, dark and depressing. That's how it was when she wasn't around.

When she wasn't there, he felt distant, distracted and mean; if she graced his presence with her own he felt alive, as if his heart only beat when she was there. This frightened him, he hated being dependent. Especially on her.

The rug beneath his booted feet was worn and tearing at the edges, the desk was mahogany and spotless, the large leather chair in the corner wasn't in the best of shape, but it was comfortable. The drapes were thrown aside, allowing the bright sun to filter into the room in rays cascading down upon the floor. Bookcases lined the walls, overflowing with miscellaneously sized volumes of different colors, different subjects.

He'd read them all, but he would give them all up, and everything he owned, if she would just stop looking at him as if he were the lowest form of vermin.

He couldn't blame her, he knew, she had a completely distorted version of who he was; she saw coldness and cruelty, she saw him as he once had been. She didn't see him for who he was now, who he had become. 

****

I've kept it inside for the longest time

And I can't keep keeping it

All this love that's inside my heart

Maybe it's safer not to say that I care

Maybe this road won't lead me anywhere

As he rang his fingers along the spines of the old books, a knock at the door thrust him into reality and he jumped. His blond hair fell into his gray eyes and he brushed it aside impatiently. His mouth was in a frown that looked more like a pout and his eyes were flashing with surprise at having a visitor.

When he spoke, his voice was cracked and weak, like he hadn't used it in a very long time. "Who is it?"

All he heard in response was her voice, it floated over him in a wave; it pushed the dark cloud from the room and replaced it with a thousand suns. He felt his knees go slightly weak and he lowered himself into the leather chair. The silence of the room was broken as his leather pants brushed against the chair's upholstery. He cleared his throat nervously. He didn't know why she was there.  
  
"It's me," she said again, sounding hesitant to be outside his door, hesitant to be a part of his life after all this time. He could almost see her in his mind standing out there in her sweater set and practical skirt with knee socks immaculate black Mary Jane shoes. Her long mousy brown hair would be swept back in a bun at the top of her head, or hanging in a long braid down the middle of her back. She would most likely be holding a book, maybe have her jacket swung carefully across her arm. A  
  
As he pictured her, he involuntarily felt his heart speed up. He didn't understand how her mere presence on the other side of a door could do such things to her. "Can I come in?" she ventured after a moment of silence.

He cleared his throat again; he wanted desperately, more than anything, to see her standing in front of him, but it was best for him to ignore her. He found that if he didn't see her, it was easier to pretend that he wasn't madly in love with her.

****

But if I don't tell you now

I may never get the chance again

To tell you that I need you

Tell you what I'm feeling

If I keep these feelings in

And if I don't say the words

How will you hear what's inside my heart

How will you know that

If I don't tell you now

He knew that if he didn't speak soon, she'd leave. His want to see her overpowered his want to protect his fragile heart and he stood from the chair slowly. "Yes," he said weakly, "You can come in."

Cautiously the door creaked open and her head popped around; her brown eyes searched the distinctly clean room and finally landed on him. His heart jumped to his throat and he felt himself unable to speak.   
  
She smiled slightly and entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She wasn't wearing what he expected. Of course, the picture of her in his mind had been how she'd looked four years ago on their last day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today her hair was sweeping across her shoulders in long, wavy curls; it was colored caramel brown and went perfectly with her dark brown eyes. She was wearing a skirt, as he'd assumed, but instead of it being scholarly, it was cotton candy pink, long and touched down just below her ankle. She paired it with a form fitting cream colored bodice and she looked heavenly to him. He could see the exposed skin of her shoulders and arms and could tell she'd been sunbathing before, her skin was honey colored; it made her look vibrantly healthy.

Just looking at her, he felt the need to sit down again but he stood still and watched her instead. He thought his appearance paled in comparison to hers, but what he didn't realize was that his looks were doing the same to her as hers did to him. He was wearing loose fitted black leather pants, black boots and a taught black t-shirt.

"Hi," she said after a minute of awkward silence, as they had both stared at one another.

"Hello," he replied, coughing slightly. He willed his heart to slow its pace, but it didn't heed him. "What are you doing here?"

Where that question may have sounded rude before, he had said it curiously and not angrily.

She held out a large leather bound book to him and he finally let his eyes leave her face to travel down to her hand.

"Oh," he said dejectedly. He had forgotten he'd leant her a book a week or so ago. His long, slim fingers reached out to pluck it from her hand. After flipping through it to familiarize himself with the book, he dropped it carelessly into the chair behind him.

  
When she spoke again, her voice was light and airy; she was trying to sound as normal as possible, though inside her insides were churning simply at the sight of him. "Thank you for letting me borrow it."  
  
He shrugged his slender shoulders, a gesture she was more than used to, "No problem."

All he wanted to do was pull her into him and kiss her senseless until he couldn't breathe, but the reluctant look in her eyes and the uncomfortable way her feet, in sparkly flip flops, constantly moved back and forth told him that she didn't want what he did.

****

I'd give anything

To be in your dreams

And I stand standing by

With this dream that's inside of my heart

Maybe I'm only gonna make a mistake

And there's a chance maybe my heart will break

"Did you," he paused, trying to word his question in the correct way, "Did you find it to be stimulating?" He mentally kicked himself for sounding so foreign and old fashioned.

"Er, yes," she replied slowly, feeling stupid and inarticulate, "It was a good read."

He nodded, a slight smile forcing its way onto his lips, "Good. I enjoyed it as well."

They stood there for a few more tense moments, just looking at each other. It seemed they both had lots of things to say to one another, but neither knew how phrase them; or maybe they were just both scared.

"How are you?" She ventured, hugging herself and rubbing her arms up and down.

  
He took a hesitant step forwards, "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, her hair flying about her face; she smelled like strawberries and he wanted to take a deep breath to get a better scent of it, but he was afraid to. "I'm okay," she said, letting her hands drop to her sides where she began nervously fingering the sides of her prairie skirt.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, "I've…I've missed seeing you lately."  
  
"Oh, well," she seemed surprised by his statement, but was ready with a response after a moment, "I haven't been around, you know, because, well, I just haven't been." She shrugged awkwardly.

"I've been busy," he offered, nodding a little, "Lots of Ministry things to do and whatnot."

"Yes," she affirmed, "The office has been rather busy."  
  
"How're Potter and Weasley?"

"Good. How's…erm…Ginny?"  
  
His eyes narrowed in shock, "Ginny and I are no longer together. I figured you'd know that. I broke up with her…we broke up about three months ago."

"Three months?" She inquired, biting her bottom lip, "My, that's quite a while. I haven't actually seen her since Ron's birthday about seven or eight months ago." Her eyes bore into his and then fell away, to survey the rug. To a blue swirl on the gray carpet, she said, "Why did you break up?"

A breath caught in his throat. This was his moment, this was the window of opportunity. He had to tell her now.

****

But if I don't tell you now

I may never get the chance again

To tell you that I need you

Tell what I'm feeling

If I keep these feelings in

If I don't say the words

How will you hear what's inside my heart

How will you know that

Another step brought him within touching distance to her, and surprisingly she didn't move away.

"I told her I was in love with somebody else."

The words flew into her consciousness as fast as a speeding bullet, and then out again so quickly that she wasn't sure she'd heard them at all. They didn't register correctly in her tired mind.

When she didn't respond to him, or look up, he said, "How are things with Krum?" His voice sounded forlorn and angry, maybe with a hint of jealousy.

"Viktor?" she asked, laughing a little, finally allowing herself to look at him, "I wouldn't know. I'd have thought Harry would have told you that he was found in a hot tub with a lot of, well, ladies of the night quite a while ago."

He laughed, a pure and real laugh that made her smile. "I'm sorry, that's awful."  
  
"No, no, don't be sorry. It was funny. I didn't care for him, anyway. I cared about him, of course, but not in the way I…" she trailed off, "I didn't care for him that deeply, you see." Again she bit her bottom lip; he longed to reach out and press his lips to hers, but he held back.

One thing he was getting used to was his restraint where she was concerned.

"Draco," she said his name lovingly and quietly.

His gray eyes searched hers, "Hermione."

Smiling, she said, "Why is it that I have been here many times with things related to work and we've never spoken more than once or twice? We talked about the weather or something. Then at the office, we'd pass each other and nod, but we never even talked? Why is it that we're talking today?"

The surprise in Draco's eyes at her having noticed what he, himself, had analyzed earlier was obvious to her. He had been avoiding her as much as possible so as not to cause him further grief and pain.

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity until she spoke up, "Draco, who is it that you're in love with, if it's not Ginny?"

If I don't tell you now

How will you know you're inside my soul

Oh it's driving me crazy

'Cause you don't see 

You're the world to me

I'm so afraid to say

The way that I feel

"I would think that'd be obvious," Draco responded lightly, reaching out to take her hand gently in his.

"It's not," she said quietly, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest; she was worried it would escape her chest altogether and go flying across the room, that's how fast and hard it was beating.

His warm lips brushed hers so quickly and so lightly that she wasn't sure it had happened at all. One of his hands held tightly to hers, his thumb running along the side of it and his other hand was reaching out to caress her flushed cheek.

Instinctively, she pulled back, out of his grasp; he stood still his arms swinging limply at his sides.

"What---" she took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart. "What are you doing?" She said it quietly, not shrilly; she was only confused and not angry with him.

Draco didn't need words to explain how he felt, in fact he had used so many words lately to go over his feelings for Hermione that he felt he couldn't phrase it all again even if he'd wanted to. So, heaving a huge breath, he strolled to where she stood, pinned her against the wall and crushed his lips to hers.

All of the breath Hermione had escaped her throat as his lips devoured hers. She could feel his heart beating crazily against her chest, could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt against her bare throat. His fingers roamed through her curly hair as his mouth continued to suck all the life out of her.

When he pulled away, his lips were moist, red and swollen and she looked as if she'd just run a marathon. Her breath was ragged and quick; she inhaled sharply, desperately taking oxygen back into her system.

****

But if I don't tell you now

I may never get the chance again

To tell you that I need you

Tell what I'm feeling

If I keep these feelings in

If I don't say the words

How will you hear what's inside my heart

How will you know that

If I don't tell you now

"Hermione," he laughed, licking his lips; his hair was disheveled where she'd run her hands through it without even realizing she had. She remembered the feel now, as she stared at him; his hair had been so soft and silky to her touch.

"What?" she questioned, feeling annoyed at him for a reason that wasn't clear to her.

"I'm madly in love with you."

Hermione's eyebrow rose and she pressed her lips together, "You are?"

"I wouldn't lie about that, I assure you." Draco covered the little distance between them then and gently pushed her against the wall again, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her head. She could feel his breath on her face, "I've loved you for quite a while."

Though she felt very weak, she managed to swot him in the arm playfully; her lips were set in a frown when she said, "Nice of you to tell me now, when you could have told me long ago."

He shrugged, and she noticed his breathing was also faster than normal, "I was afraid you didn't feel the same."  
  
Hermione mustered more courage than she knew she had and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss, "Well, I do."

"You can do better than that," he grinned his trademark grin; the one she'd found sexy ever since the first day she'd met him. She had no more time to ponder anything, however, because his lips came down on hers once more and she lost all comprehension of anything that didn't involve the two of them.


End file.
